


A Dream Is a Wish

by warblingaway (fallingthorns)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingthorns/pseuds/warblingaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Blaine wants nothing more then to dance with commoner Kurt Hummel at his father’s balls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Is a Wish

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers! Written for Klaine Week Day 3 over on Tumblr!
> 
> Disclaimer: Glee and all affiliated characters belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy.

“Kurt,” Blaine pants against Kurt’s mouth, “I really, really should go.”

“Mmm, no,” Kurt murmurs as he fists his hands in Blaine’s shirt and pulls him closer.  “Not yet.”

Blaine whimpers as Kurt bites down on his lower lip, his heart thudding in his chest as Kurt lowers him further down on the couch so Blaine is now sprawled out on top of him.  He holds back a moan as Kurt’s hands slide up underneath his shirt, his fingers cold against Blaine’s overheated skin.

“The ball,” Blaine breathes into Kurt’s mouth.  He’s knows he sounds like a caveman whenever he tries to talk while Kurt is kissing him but, given the circumstances, he really couldn’t care less.  “I – the ball is in an hour my – my father will be looking for me.”

Kurt kisses Blaine one last time and pulls back, his lower lip red and swollen as he pouts up at Blaine.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine whispers as he plants a small, closed lip kiss to Kurt’s lips.  “I don’t have a choice.  You know that I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t have to.”

Kurt nods his head subtly, his hands moving to play with the collar of Blaine’s shirt.  “I just hate thinking about you dancing with all those girls,” he says, his voice cracking a little.  “I just. . . _I_ want to be the one dancing with you.”

“I know,” Blaine murmurs, peppering kisses all over Kurt’s cheeks.  “When I’m with them, all I’m thinking is how I only want to dance with you.”

“Mmm,” Kurt hums as Blaine’s lips trail feather light kisses down his neck.  “I wish I could come.”

“I wish there was a way I could invite you,” Blaine says against his neck, his tongue flicking out to trail along his collarbone. 

“Although, I don’t think I would like seeing you court all those girls,” Kurt adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Kurt,” Blaine pulls back from Kurt’s neck and sits up on the couch, pulling Kurt up with him and taking his hands in his own.  “You know how it is in the Royal Court.”

Kurt sniffs and nods again.  “I just had to fall for a prince,” he murmurs, almost to himself but just loud enough that he knows Blaine can hear him. 

“Hey.” Blaine pushes Kurt’s chin up with his hand and looks him in the eyes.  “I love you.  Please, Kurt, I hate how you get like this every time my father sets up one of these balls.  You’re upset, and that makes _me_ upset.”

Blaine looks into Kurt’s eyes for a moment longer before leaning in and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lips.  “I love you,” he murmurs again, cupping the back of Kurt’s head as he continues to kiss him. 

“I love you, too,” Kurt replies softly. 

Blaine pulls away and kisses Kurt’s cheek once before standing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises as he squeezes Kurt’s hand.  “Please don’t be upset all night.”

“I won’t be,” Kurt shrugs.  “I’ll go out and do the laundry or something.”

Blaine gives him a soft smile, squeezing his hand one more time before walking out of Kurt’s little house.

Kurt closes the door behind Blaine and leans against it, taking a deep, calming breath.  He knew what he was getting in to when he literally ran into Blaine in the woods so many months ago – he knew that Blaine was a prince, that he was King Anderson’s son, and Kurt knew that he was a town boy whose parents had died and who now lived in a small little shed in the backyard of his old school teacher.  He knew that the only way he could afford it was by helping out with chores, and he knew that no one else would approve of his relationship with the prince.

Kurt opens the door again and walks out, shoving his hands in his ratty pants pockets and heading towards the clothes line.  He unclips the shirt and starts to fold it, glancing back up once it’s set in a neat pile and nearly jumping off of his feet when he sees a woman with short, red hair standing next to him.

“Um,” he says, his heart pounding in his chest from the slight fright. 

“Kurt Hummel,” the woman says, her eyes twinkling. 

“Yes?” He replies, because he isn’t really sure if she was asking him or not.

She smiles at him as she grabs his hands and forcibly drags him back into his small house. 

“Um,” Kurt says again as she closes the door behind him.  “Not to sound rude, but I don’t really know who you are.”

She smiles at him again, her face shining and, if Kurt isn’t mistaken, her pink dress shimmering, almost like it’s glowing.

“I’m Emma,” her grin falters for a moment before she rummages around in her purse and pulls out a neatly folded handkerchief.  She turns back to the doorknob and starts furiously rubbing the cloth against the cool metal.  “I guess I would technically be what you call a Fairy Godmother. But you can just call me Emma.”

Kurt’s eyes widen, his mouth opening in shock as he stared at her.  Before he can say anything, though, Emma turns back towards him and tucks her handkerchief away again.  “I happened to notice that you desire to go to the ball at King Anderson’s palace this evening,” she says.  “So I’m here to make that happen.”

“Oh, no,” Kurt stammers, his eyes wide.  “No, no, that is definitely not a good idea.  I don’t belong, they don’t like commoners at their balls, that’s why they don’t invite us, they don ‘t want me there –”

“I know that’s not true,” she interrupts him, her eyes twinkling with a secret.  “I know that there is a certain young prince who wants nothing more than for his boyfriend to be at the ball.”

“I – I don’t –”

“Honey,” Emma coos, petting his cheek gently.  “I’m a fairy.  I’m not exactly going to tell everyone.”

Kurt swallows the lump in his throat.  Emma’s big, brown doe-eyes are glittering with excitement, and Kurt wants nothing more to go to the ball, even if he can’t see Blaine, he wants to see him dressed up in his suit, he wants to see the prince being the prince, the same prince he’d fantasized for so many months before his fantasies became reality –

“Ok,” he whispers before his thoughts can get even further away from him.  “I do want to go.  Do what you have to do.”

***

Blaine slips the prince’s crown on his head, briefly adjusting it in the mirror, and heads out of his bedroom and down the long, winding staircase into the ballroom.  It’s one of the masquerade balls, and, much to Blaine’s chagrin, everyone but the royal family wear masks

He hates that his father sets up these monthly balls in hopes that Blaine will meet a nice girl that he might want to marry.  He absolutely hates it.  All he really wants to do is go curl up with Kurt in his shed, his ratty couch beneath them as they exchange kisses and soft touches.

“Blaine,” his father’s voice sounds from the front of the hall.  Blaine tips his head to him in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the fact that his father has a young, blonde haired girl on his arm, waiting for Blaine to come and invite her to dance.

It’s times like these that Blaine wishes that he was wearing a mask, that he couldn’t feel the eyes of all the young girls on him, hoping that he’ll pick them to be his princess.

Blaine turns his head back to look at his father again when, in the corner of the room, he spots a soft coif of light brown hair that Blaine would now recognize anywhere.  The boy is wearing a light blue mask, his black suit sleek and fitting.  Blaine pauses on the last step, debating for a moment as he looks between the boy and his father, and when he realizes that the only words running through his mind are _Kurt Kurt Kurt KurtKurtKurtKurt,_ he knows that it was never really an option.

Taking a deep breath and not sparing his father another glance, Blaine makes his way towards Kurt, his introduction to the room starting and then stalling when the speaker realizes that he isn’t going to stop and wait for his name to be announced. 

Kurt hasn’t noticed Blaine coming towards him yet, unlike the rest of the ballroom, so when Blaine appears in front of Kurt and gently grips his arm, the startled to shocked to awed expression that passes on Kurt’s face is worth any punishment his father might inflict on him.

Blaine practically feels his father’s eyes boring into his head, and as he gently reaches up and removes Kurt’s mask from his face, he doesn’t hear the gasps of the other guests.  He doesn’t hear his father’s shouts of “Blaine Devon Anderson!” He doesn’t notice anything but Kurt and his bright, shining, ocean colored eyes.

“Hi,” Blaine breathes after what feels like hours of him just staring at Kurt. “You look – you look fantastic.”

Kurt blushes and ducks his head.  “I apparently have a Fairy Godmother,” he says slowly, glancing up at Blaine through his eyelashes.

Blaine grins at him and holds his hand.  “Well, since you’re here, I believe I have an obligation to dance with you.”

Kurt hesitantly puts his hand back into Blaine’s while Blaine lifts his other hand up and gently places the mask back on Kurt’s face.  “Even though I would rather see your face,” Blaine murmurs as he pulls Kurt close to him, “this _is_ a masquerade ball, after all.”

Kurt grins, still hesitant, and loops his arms around Blaine’s neck.  “It’s weird, seeing you all prince-y.”

Blaine laughs and dips Kurt, his hazel eyes blooming with light.  When he pulls Kurt back up, their faces are closer than before, their noses touching with each slight movement of their feet.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Blaine breathes, and before Kurt can even respond, Blaine’s lips are on his, gentle and soft and moving with such caressing movements that Kurt physically feels the love pouring out from every inch of Blaine.

Another loud “Blaine Devon Anderson!” sounds from Blaine’s father, and Blaine quickly pulls away.

“Come on,” he murmurs, tugging on Kurt’s hand and leading him quickly back towards the long, winding staircase.  “Let’s get out of here before he can catch me.  I know a shortcut.”

Kurt grins and hurries as Blaine practically runs out of the room, both of them ignoring all of the gaping, staring faces of wonder that follow them out.


End file.
